Alaskan Undead Apocalypse (Book 4): Resolution (45 page)

They didn’t speak much and when they did, it
was only superficial talk about past professional sporting
matches...the big games that all of them had seen. They weren’t
really talking with one another; they were merely filling in the
silence that would have been hanging around them otherwise. The
strong winds hurling the snow against the shack’s thin metal walls
did their part to vanquish the quiet, but it wasn’t a consistent
white noise which might encourage calm. The winds came in violent
gusts which rocked and shook the small structure and raised alarms
in all of their heads.

After they had finished the wine, the
conversations largely came to a close and a profound silence
shrouded all of them, interrupted occasionally by the buffeting
winds outside. The air became more and more stale in their tight
confines until the smell finally became overpowering.

Luckily for Cody, the storm sounded like it
was starting to fade somewhat. The time between gusts was
lengthening, encouraging him to start considering options. Unable
to hold his urine any longer, Cody stood and exited the shack.

He stepped around the back of the shack and
opened the fly on his pants. It felt good to be in the open air,
despite the cold, and just as refreshing to be emptying his
bladder, which steamed as it exited his body. It went on without
end. If ever there were a time when he should have written his name
in the snow, it would have been then. He had plenty of urine with
which to write. He could have started writing his memoirs.

Finally done and completely relieved, Cody
wrapped himself tightly in his winter coat. He figured he would
have a look around before going back into the shack to rejoin the
others. He lifted his rifle and walked back around to the front of
the building, surprised to see that someone else had emerged from
the shack.

Cody, his eye catching a bit of movement
through the storm which he suspected was Oscar’s body swinging at
the end of its rope, said to whomever it was, “I think the storm is
starting to clear.”

He saw that the man wasn’t wearing a coat,
and when the person turned awkwardly on his stiff legs, Cody
realized it wasn’t a man at all. It was a
skin
. He was momentarily too stunned to say or do
anything. He staggered backward through the pool of yellow he had
only moments before created.

The creature, a Cyclops as a result of a
grievous wound to its face and head, advanced toward Cody. It
growled and hissed, raising its arms. It was then that Cody
realized there was more of them, dozens more, swarming all around
the tunnel entrance.

“They’re herrrrre!” he shouted.
“Everyonnnnnne! They’re herrrrre!”

He heard someone from inside the shack shout
something unintelligible, followed by a desperate volley of wild
gunshots and more screams. Hearing the guns of his companions
helped to shake the weights from his hands holding his own firearm.
Cody raised the gun’s barrel and pulled the trigger. His bullet hit
his target high in its chest, shattering its sternum in a shower of
whitish bone fragments. Seemingly struck by a giant’s hammer, the
creature was pitched backward and disappeared out of sight.

Abruptly, the cold air was pregnant with
gunshots and aggressive screaming and hooting. For a moment, aside
from the shootings, the sounds resembled those of an epic battle
from antiquity. War hoots and battle yawps filled the darkness.

Cody inched along the back of the shack and
peeked around the opposite side. Although the darkness prevented
him from seeing very far, Cody could see one of his companions
grabbed away from the other two by a dozen grayish hands while he
reloaded his rifle. Cody could have shot but he didn’t want to
accidently hit the man in the process...not that such an
eventuality would not be in the man’s interest. The six remorseless
mouths chomped onto his flailing arms and legs, biting into his
skin through layers of clothing and down. Perhaps it was simply the
fear of drawing attention back to himself that stayed his hand, but
Cody did not shoot. He watched helplessly as the other man was
shredded and devoured.

He heard a flurry of shots and then the
pounding of feet as the other two men made a desperate dash for the
truck. Hearing them running caused a sudden rush of anxiety upon
Cody. If they made it to the truck and managed to get it going,
would they think to get him before they drove away, or would they
leave him behind?

Cody found himself in a near panic and his
worry rising. Looking over his shoulder at the expanding darkness
behind him, he weighed his limited options. When he heard the doors
open and then slam shut quickly, he knew he needed to act.

The vehicle’s engine roared to life and its
headlights spread out upon the hideous crowd encircling the little
oasis. There were hundreds of the fiends filling the road like an
expanding virus and still more coming at them from the road leading
back to the Seward Highway over a mile away. The things had
followed them. He’d never seen so many of them at one time.

The vehicle’s tires screeched and produced a
cloud of whitish smoke when his comrades made their play for
safety. He had to decide. If he jumped out at them and they didn’t
stop for him, he was doomed.

Holding his breath, he started to run out
when he heard another gunshot from within the SUV and then the
sound of breaking glass. The headlight beams panned wildly from
right to left as the truck careened out of control while Cody
watched in horror. In the halo emitted by the vehicle’s interior
dome light, Cody could see that there were more than three heads
inside.

Cody was awestruck with the unfolding
struggle until another gunshot from within the truck shook his
awareness again. To Cody’s surprise, the truck regained control and
squealed its tires again, barreled into the tunnel and disappeared
from sight, its echoing engine noise and bright headlights quickly
fading into the gloom.

Though he could no longer see it, he could
still hear the crude eating sounds by the pack of creatures still
feasting on his fallen companion. They sounded like jackals
scavenging meat from the festering bones of a kill on the
savannah.

Alone now, he was trying to decide what to
do when he felt the unmistakable presence of another skin near to
him. Cody took a step back and looked to his left but the darkness
was too powerful and his eyes too weak to see more than a few feet
in front of himself. There was nothing there. Then he looked to his
right; nothing. Straining to detect the sounds of movement separate
from those of eating coming from the road on the other side of the
shack and his own galloping heartbeat, Cody stopped to listen. He
thought that perhaps he heard something but was relieved to only
hear his own heart and a persistent buzzing, which he attributed to
his elevated pulse and respiration.

He peeked around the shack again, thankful
that he could see none of the ghouls advancing toward him.
Breathing a quiet sigh of relief, he stepped back to his safe
location behind the small structure. His reprieve was short-lived,
however.

The creature, which had originally startled
Cody, was standing next to him again. For a split second, the two
locked eyes with one another; Cody’s filled with fear and doubt and
the creature’s simmering with rage-filled hunger. Cody attempted to
flee but was caught by the thing’s bony fingers closing around his
jacket collar.

Terrified, he screamed and tried to run away
but his coat was zipped tightly up to his chest. He was spun around
like an excited top. The only thing that would make a quick getaway
possible was his rifle, which had been hurled away from him into
the night. Cody stopped directly in front of and eye to eye with a
feral, decaying predator.

He felt like a moth staring into the many
eyes of a hungry spider bearing down upon him. With its gaping
mouth coming down at him, Cody did the only thing he could think to
do, which was kick up and out with his right foot. His knee struck
the creature squarely in the groin but did not produce the effect
for which Cody had hoped.

Other than the sheer force of the strike,
the creature was unswayed. Fortunately, the force was enough to
loosen its grip on Cody’s coat. With a solid tug, Cody freed
himself from its clutches and turned to run. Unfortunately, he ran
headlong into another of the ghouls, tripping both himself and the
uncoordinated creature.

The two fell to the frozen ground in a
twisted, struggling heap. Cody was holding his breath and clenching
his jaw as he fought. The thing was slow but persistent. When Cody
felt like he had gotten the upper hand with a push or a
repositioning of his body, his attacker readjusted and came at him
from a different angle.

When he felt another set of hands on his
right leg, Cody found his panic rising to a feverish pitch. From
beneath the beast, he felt a surge of adrenaline, which empowered
his hands, feet, and voice.

“Off of me you fuckerrrrrs!!!” he
shouted.

Using his shoulders and free left leg as
levers, Cody exerted enough force to push the one from atop him and
down a gentle slope leading away from where the three of them
battled behind the shack. The other one, despite a good kick to the
face, was not as easily dissuaded from his assault. Finding the
right angle, the zombie finally bit into Cody’s calf.

The pain was excruciating. The skin’s teeth
ground together and pulled away, rending flesh from bone. He could
feel the warm spray of fresh blood spurting from the wound onto his
leg. He reached to his belt and removed his hunting knife from its
scabbard. He drove the thick silver blade into the top of the
creature’s skull and twisted it to remove it. The biting stopped
and the zombie slumped over dead.

Working quickly despite the steady surge of
pain from his wound, Cody crawled back up to his feet. The fiend he
had thrown aside was also back to its feet and coming at him.

“Fuck you!” he screeched, and jabbed with
the knife, plunging the sticky blade into his assailant’s eye. “How
do you like that you bastard?”

Cody pulled the knife from the ruined eye
socket and limped away, making certain to stay off the road and in
the shadows. He inched his way painfully toward the tunnel. He
wasn’t sure what he was going to do, but he knew he needed to get
himself to the other side. He needed to find help...someone to help
relieve some of his pain. Maybe someone still in Whittier had found
a cure for the Biting Sickness.

He could feel the warm wetness from his
wound filling his boot. The pain with each step was approaching
unbearable levels, and yet he found the will to keep moving.

Finally getting to the edge of the mountain
where the tunnel entrance was, Cody paused to catch his breath. His
leg throbbed remorselessly. So much so that he removed his belt and
wrapped it tightly just above the wound.

He could hear the horde moving to and fro on
the road but he couldn’t see any of them from where he stood; it
was too dark. He wished he still had his rifle. Hell, he wished he
would have been able to get into the truck and driven off with the
other two men from the rearguard. Cody could still smell the
vehicle’s exhaust lingering in the sheltered confines of the
tunnel.

Remembering that he was still carrying some
items in the many pockets of his coat, Cody searched for anything
that might help. He pulled out hand and feet warmers still in their
plastic packages, a granola bar, a package of Bayer aspirin which
he promptly opened and popped in his mouth, some ammunition for the
gun that he no longer was carrying, and a road flare stuffed into
his inside pocket.

He held the flare in front of himself,
hoping it would be all he needed to make his escape. He just needed
a distraction and maybe it would work.

Knowing that his time was limited, Cody
sparked the flare to life and threw it as far as he could in the
opposite direction from the tunnel. Looking up from his hiding
spot, he could see in the flare’s red glow a large crowd forming
around the flame.

He had no time to wait. Cody walked up onto
the road and then ran toward the tunnel, which was as dark as a
starless night sky. He felt like he was stepping into a black hole
where light and matter were devoured by the darkness.

The air inside the tunnel was musty and
still reeked of past vehicle exhaust. It was also cool and slightly
moist against his skin. He thought he could hear other footsteps in
addition to the sound of dripping water, but his eyes were useless.
No matter how wide he tried to make them, he couldn’t attract any
light at all. He was blind and, within a handful of steps into the
darkness, he regretted his decision.

His footsteps squeezed and squished as blood
from the wound on his leg spilled down into his boot. Thankfully,
the pain had subsided to a dull throb mixed with a numbing
sensation that followed an unpleasant wave of pins and needles
sensation. The squishing echoed uncomfortably off of the walls all
around him.

An unsettling thought struck him. What if he
was not making any headway? What if he was staggering in circles?
His worry was starting to grow beyond his control when he swore
that he saw something ahead.

After another handful of steps, he realized
he was looking at what could only be headlights. They were facing
away from him but the luminescence was grand. With a little more
hope and possibility in his mind, Cody increased his pace.

To his surprise and delight, the truck was
still running, though it was empty. From the glow of the vehicle’s
interior lights, Cody could see streaks of red on the inside and
outside of the windows and along the individual panels of the SUV’s
exterior.

He stepped up to the open door tentatively
and looked inside. There was more blood on the dash, the seat, the
seatbelt, and the floor. Glancing back over his shoulder before he
climbed into the seat, Cody was not at all surprised to see that he
was being followed. Like the taunting wraiths of a nightmare, the
undead shuffled through the murk toward him and the light.